


treacherous

by greyspilot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, fred is a Flirt, george is a lad, ginny is a bad bleep but we all knew that, hopefully not too much angst but we'll see, lots of pining actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29754360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyspilot/pseuds/greyspilot
Summary: Prim had always prided herself on being rather astute. There wasn’t a lot that took her by surprise, and yet the list of things she didn’t expect to see at the Quidditch World Cup was only getting longer.They’d only been here close to an hour, but the list of things she Really Didn’t Expect included, but was not limited to:1. A campsite that took up more space than the quidditch pitch itself.2. Veela.3. Harry Potter.4. A pair of six-foot tall men with long ginger hair. One of which with his face covered completely in white paint, save for a large green clover right in the centre, and an oversized top hat.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	treacherous

The Quidditch World Cup was both everything Primrose had expected, and nothing like it at all.

Prim had always prided herself on being rather astute. There wasn’t a lot that took her by surprise, and yet the list of things she didn’t expect to see at the Quidditch World Cup was only getting longer.

For example, the list of Things She Had Expected was the following:

  1. Large crowds.
  2. Rambunctious fans.
  3. Cheap butterbeer sold at identical stalls scattered throughout the stands.



And though they’d only been here close to an hour, the list of things she Really Didn’t Expect included, but was not limited to:

  1. A campsite that took up more space than the quidditch pitch itself.
  2. _Veela._
  3. To step into the top box with her family ( _mother, father, house elf;_ the only family Prim had ever known) to find a handful of ministry officials, a trio of well-dressed, white-haired wizards ( _mother, father, son_ , she assumed) stood next to a family of shabby red-heads.
  4. Harry Potter.



Her friends back home always did say Britain was wild, and she made a mental note to send Aster an owl as soon as she got home.

“Ah, Lucius,” her father greeted the one of the white-haired wizards when he had finished speaking with the minister and the eldest of the red-headed family (and, again, _Harry Potter_ ). “It’s been a long time-”

“Thirteen years,” the man, Lucius, cut her father off, his tone biting. “If I’m not mistaken.”

If there was one word to describe Cyrus Avery, it was this: resolute. The man was unwavering, determined to a fault, but she swore she saw him falter at the cutting look Lucius shot him.

“Yes, well, we’re back now. I’m sure you remember my wife, Penelope,” Cyrus said, gesturing to his wife (tall, brunette, reserved.) and then at Prim. “And this is my daughter, Primrose.”

“Good evening,” Prim greeted with a nod of her head, well-mannered as she’d always been taught.

Lucius raised a brow at her. “Only the one? I was under the impression you wanted a more… _successful_ lineage.”

The look that her father gave the man in return was cold enough she felt a chill run up her spine. Their tones were familiar, if not quite friendly, but the looks that passed them told her that even if they had been friends once, they definitely weren’t anymore.

“Penelope was injured in the war,” Cyrus said, in answer to a question that hadn’t really been asked. “We’re lucky to have one. But I assure you, the line does not end with Primrose.”

Prim felt the briefest urge to roll her eyes at this, though she had long since become accustomed to her father treating her like little more than a prized owl:

  1. Something to brag about.
  2. Good for breeding.



And that was pretty much where his interest in her ended.

“How do you plan to manage that?” Lucius asked, not even bothering to cast a glance at the young girl. “You made a vow, lest you forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten a _thing_ , Lucius. Penelope and I have arranged a meeting with Higgs after the Cup. If all goes according to plan…”

Now that her father had finished showing her off as if to prove some sort of point, Primrose walked away. If she was going to be here watching quidditch all night, she figured she would at least try and get a good view of the players. She had just reached the edge of the box and was leaning her elbows on the railing when-

“I thought this was supposed to be a family event,” sneered one of the red-headed boys to her left. He was younger than her but at least half a foot taller. “Who let the snakes in?”

 _Snakes_? She didn’t even know this person, who was he to be calling her family _snakes_?

Cheeks flushed red and eyebrows furrowed, Primrose grasped at the wand tucked under her belt. She opened her mouth to curse him out but someone else spoke before she could.

“Oh sod off, Ron,” said a girl who looked no older than twelve, yet wise beyond her years. There was no doubt that she was related to said boy (the hair itself was a dead giveaway) as he scoffed at her but rolled his and turned back to the pitch nonetheless. “Sorry about him.”

It wasn’t really in her nature to just let things go. On a normal day she would be giving him a piece of her mind, but this wasn’t a normal day. This was her second day in a new country, she was surrounded by strangers and her family were only a few feet away. She didn’t want to embarrass them.

So she plastered on a polite smile and swallowed her pride. “Totally okay.”

“Yeah, don’t let Ickle Ronniekins bother you,” said a new voice from behind her.

“Tends to get a bit worked up when Quidditch is involved, that one does,” followed another voice, eerily similar to the first but still noticeably different.

Why people insisted on speaking to her, she had no idea. All she wanted was get through this night as quickly and painlessly as possible, but this family wasn’t going to make that an easy task.

Barely suppressing a groan, Prim turned to face them and tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear.

(Another thing that she Really Didn’t Expect:

  1. A pair of six-foot tall men with long ginger hair. One of which with his face covered completely in white paint, save for a large green clover right in the centre, and an oversized top hat. The other of which looked to be quite normal. Kind of cute, even.)



With a tight-lipped smile (more of a grimace, really), Primrose told them: “I’m not bothered, honestly. I just... _really_ want to watch this game.”

Even to her own ears it sounded like a lie, so it was no surprise when the men crossed their arms and broke into waggish grins. ( _Cute_.)

“Who’d you back, then?” Asked the boy who had only a couple of stripes of paint below his eyes.

“I-” Prim straightened her back and cleared her throat. She hadn’t been backing anyone, in fact she hadn’t even known who was playing until they’d arrived. Blue eyes darted between brown, considering them before replying. “Ireland.”

(She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.)

“Ah! A woman of _taste_ , Georgie!” said the clover-faced one, smiling ear to ear and looking at his brother.

“That she is, Freddie,” agreed George. “And does this woman have a name?”

“I’m-”

“Don’t bother,” her father ordered almost as soon as she had opened her mouth. “They aren’t worth your time. Come.”

The boys were glaring at her father, lips curled in disdain, but he was already headed for the far side of the box to a seat currently occupied by a house elf. He hit the side of the chair with his cain, telling the elf that it’s rude to force a wizard to stand. The elf apologised and proceeded to tug on it’s own ears.

“Sorry about _him_ ,” she said to the red-heads.

There was nothing she wanted more than to stay on this side of the box, to keep talking, anything to avoid sitting through this game with only her parents and their house elf, Whisky, for company.

Her father wasn’t the warmest man, cold and calculating with an affinity for the dark arts. He looked at everything like it was a contract and if it didn’t benefit him, he didn’t want it.

Her mother was quiet, kept to herself mostly. Prim always figured she was scared of Cyrus, and that’s not something Primrose ever judged her for, but it didn’t foster a very close relationship.

But they were her family, and she was raised to be nothing if not obedient.

So she didn’t stay, instead waved at the boys and mouthed a _sorry_ as she walked past them.

This was going to be a long night.

── ⋆⋅☽ ☆ﾟ⋅⋆ ──

“I’m a Quidditch player myself actually. Yeah, I play at Hogwarts. _Seeker_.”

 _Smile and nod_ , she reminded herself, though she could feel that smile becoming more and more like a grimace with each passing second.

Her parents were back in Terence’s tent, seemingly discussing something important with his father. She didn’t catch much before her own father had all but pushed her out the door (“Nothing for you to worry about,” he’d said. “Why don’t you and Terence go explore the grounds? You don’t need to be here for this.”) but she knew it couldn’t be anything good.

Prim couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment settle in the pit of her stomach. Cyrus Avery had always been obsessed with power and would do anything he could to ensure he had the most of it, or at the very least, to make sure he was on the side that did. Maybe it was naive, but she had hoped that would change when they came back to Britain, that something about where he grew up would bring out another side of him. A softer side.

They’d only been back a few days but so far, he’d exceeded in proving her wrong.

“Draco Malfoy did take my position one year. Only only got it because his father bought the entire team new brooms. Didn’t last long, that one. Didn’t have the natural skill a seeker requires, you see, and I-”

“Terence,” Prim cut him off sharply, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him. He looked a little taken aback, but she offered a small smile and touched her fingers to her neck. “I think I lost my necklace, it was a gift from my grandmother. Would you mind going back to your tent to look for me? I’ll retrace our steps across the grounds.”

“Oh,” said Terence, glancing at the spot where the tips of her fingers trailed across her collarbone. “Sure, yeah. Just don’t wander too far, okay? A girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Her brow furrowed at that.

“A girl like _me_? I’m perfectly capable of looking after-” She bit her tongue; all she wanted was a way out of this pathetic attempt at a conversation. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” he said with a shrug before a sleazy smirk (the kind that made her feel like she needed to go home and practice every disinfecting charm she knew) fell across his lips. “Just means you owe me one.”

One _what_ , she didn’t want to know, and she made a point not to ask, simply agreeing with a halfhearted _right_.

“Don’t go getting lost while I’m gone, yeah?” He said with a leisurely wink and then turned away from her, breaking into a small jog as he went.

When he was finally out of site, Primrose heaved a sigh of relief and headed deeper into the grounds.

Music and cheers poured from each tent, fireworks lit up the sky in different colours with every loud _pop!_ , and despite all the noise and the excitement that surrounded her as she wandered through the maze of tents, Prim realised that she hadn’t felt this calm in weeks. Not since her parents told her they’d be returning to London because _Britain is our home._ It wasn’t _her_ home, she’d argue if given the chance, she hadn’t been here in thirteen years.

(But she wasn’t given the chance, so she didn’t argue.)

She supposed it helped that she had always been a solitary person, a trait she had picked up after years of watching her parents share a house and not much else. Letting people in wasn’t something that came easy to her, but she had built a life in New York, had finally made _friends_ there, and now at almost sixteen years old, she was expected to start all over again.

There was a loud bang somewhere in the background, a larger firework, she assumed, but it was drowned out by her frenzied thoughts..

Her parents hadn’t said much about Hogwarts. Cyrus was of the opinion that there were better schools with better headmasters, but it would do for Primrose. She hadn’t any grand plans for her future, nothing that rested on her academic achievement, after all.

Penelope, on the other hand, had just offered a small smile when asked about it. She couldn’t remember another time she’d ever seen her mother smile.

“You’ll learn a lot there,” she had said, her tone cold and the smile on her face fading fast. “But school won’t always prepare you for the rest of your life. Don’t fret about it too much, you’re far too young for worry lines.”

It was hard to not worry when she was starting in just under a week, though. It was hard enough being the new girl when she was _three_ , let alone starting a new school, in a new _country_ , at the beginning of her sixth year.

An even louder bang sounded somewhere close by, this time harder to ignore. She stopped in her tracks and looked up at the sky, now glowing in shades of orange and green. There was an odd shape there too, no clovers or dancing men like all the fireworks before. This one was a skull, a snake twisted through one eye and out of the open mouth like a tongue, mocking those who saw it and dared to be afraid.

Another bang.

Cheers turned to screams and families of wizards ran from their tents, mothers holding their children and men reaching for their wands. As if anyone stood a chance against whatever dark magic had cast this mark.

Still, Primrose reached into her jacket to grab her own wand; ten and a quarter inches, cedar wood, utterly useless when she didn’t know what to do with it.

Feet refusing to move and her mind blank of any spells she knew, she saw them. A group of cloaked wizards with hoods that covered their faces. They walked in groups, gliding across the grounds as though they were flying, their wands shooting off spells in every direction.

She was going to die here. Alone.

“Wait, is that-” she heard a distant voice say, familiar but not one she could put a name to.

Frozen in fear, she didn’t turn to see who the voice belonged to. All she could do was watch as the group tore through anyone who challenged them. Their path of chaos and destruction was aimless, she was sure of that, but still it headed in her direction. 

It was oddly fitting, she thought. Her parents had never really been around for her life and they wouldn’t be here for her death either. At least she had gotten rid of Terence; dying beside him would’ve been an embarrassing way to go.

“I’ve got Ginny,” another voice said. The hooded wizards were closing in. “Go, help her!”

This was it. They were right in front of her, no more collateral damage blocking her from view and her feet still rooted to the ground, her hand still clasped around her wand with no intention of using it.

One of them stared right at her, a ball of red light blooming at the end of his wand as he began to raise it and-

“C’mon, love,” there was that voice again, right in her ear this time. “Time to run.”

And then there was a hand grabbing hers and he was pulling her along. If she wasn’t so terrified she would probably complain about his rough treatment, but right now she was just thankful that her feet were finally moving, like they’d finally caught up to her brain and were working overtime to make up for the delay.

It was hard to keep up with the taller boy taking the lead before her, but no matter how many times she stumbled, slowed him down and put him in danger, he didn’t let go. He didn’t leave her behind.

They made it to the woods where George and Ginny were waiting before she even knew what’d happened. One minute her heart was hammering in her chest as she prepared to take her last breath, and the next he was stealing the air from her lungs as he came to her rescue.

How do you thank someone for that?

“Well,” the boy said, hands on his hips and boyish grin on his face as he tried to act like he wasn’t also gasping to catch his breath. “Not exactly how I hoped we’d meet again, but I can’t complain too much now, can I?”

“Is this _really_ the time for flirting?” Her words were biting, forced out past the lump of emotion that’d lodged itself in her throat. She felt the urge to cry and squeezed her eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t fall.

Where were her parents? They may not be a very close family but they were all she had and she didn’t know what she would do if something happened to them.

“Sorry,” he uttered, a hint of shame in his voice told her it was genuine. “I don’t do well in tense situations.”

She softened at that. Here she was worrying about her parents when he had family missing too.

“No, Fred, it’s okay. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped.”

The hint of a smile played on the corner of his lips.

“You remember my name,” he said. “Must’ve made an impression.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, biting her lip so not to smile back. “Hard to forget the facepaint.”

She gestured to what was left of the clover on his face and he barked out a laugh, head thrown back and full of teeth, but she only cleared her throat and looked at the earth beneath her in response.

Smiling felt wrong when her family was still out there somewhere. And, senseless as it was, she dreaded what they might think if they knew she was out here joking instead of worrying over them.

She could hear her father’s voice now. _Where is your sense of familial pride, Primrose? Where is your loyalty? Do you think we would ever stop trying to find you?_

“I never got your name, you know.”

“It’s Primrose,” she offered with one last, close-mouthed smile. It didn’t reach her eyes and she hated that she wasn’t one of those people who could just fake it. Not like Fred seemed to be.

“Nice name. Pretty,” he said, more to himself than to her it seemed. When he spoke again his voice was quieter. “I saw you around the grounds earlier with that other bloke. Bit of a wanker, leaving you in the riots like that.”

Prim shook her head.

(One more thing to add to the list of things she Really Didn’t Expect:

  1. Defending Terence.)



“I sent him off earlier to look for my necklace.”

Her legs were still shaky, threatening to buckle beneath her, and she felt too tired to keep standing, so she placed her jacket down and took purchase on the ground.

“You weren’t wearing a neckla- _oh_. Right. Well, what about your parents?”

“They were with Terence’s father. I don’t know where they are now.”

Something shifted beside her and she looked to see Fred had taken a seat on the floor too. The smile he gave her almost made her think that everything would be okay.

“We’ll find them,” he said it like a promise, and something about the way he took her hand again made her believe he would keep it.


End file.
